The Golden Elanor
by Citoyenne Jennie Ainsley
Summary: LotR/Scarlet Pimpernel; In a time of war and terror, one man stands forth to right the wrongs of the Uruks, his identity hidden behind the small golden flower of Lorien.
1. Default Chapter

This work is dedicated to the faithful fellowship of the Ainsley-Seekers, committed to spreading love of all things Pimpernel throughout the world. May the hair of your toes never fall out, and you find your own tall, blonde, and handsome Englishman to kiss the steps you walked on.

The Golden Elanor 

by Jennie (Hobbit) Ainsley

Chapter One:

Bywater: September, 3018

            The greatest tragedy of war results when the distant battles and far-off horrors are brought to the doorstep of the innocent, and such was the terrors that now captured the attention of the fair hobbits of Bywater. Whereas they had once enjoyed leisure and friendship, they now cowered beneath the rod of terror and suspicion; whereas they had once been ignorant of the pillages upon the outside world, they now learned the price of their blind eyes. Yet could this new government truly be blamed upon them?

             Quiet whispers between old friends and acquaintances rumored of a great and powerful wizard in a far-off land; a man of such power and maliciousness that he had sent this horrific army of distorted giants to govern them and strip them of their former culture. When more than one whisper could be shared (not often, as whips and screams would drive the hobbits once more to the relative safety of their homes) another rumor would spread: that this powerful wizard was searching for something he wanted, something he believed to be hidden within their land. Yet such rumors could not always believed, for they were, perhaps, nothing more than a scattered optimism among a scattered people, placing their weak hope in the belief that eventually this man would find what he was looking for and leave their land well enough alone.

            But for the present, they found enough to keep their minds otherwise occupied, leaving no time for songs or ale. Stories began to spread of hobbits that had been taken from their homes, for challenging the authority or simply for no given explanation, and carted off somewhere shudderingly distant. For the hobbit who prefers the warmth and safety of home to any kind of adventure, this sudden arrest and capture brought chills to their spine and fear to their hearts. 

            Some of the more adventurous turned their eyes to the green hills and unlocked gates of Hobbiton – so close, and yet still free from the tyranny of these foul creatures. But the guards at the land's end proved challenging opposition to this vain hope. One in particular – a rather nasty looking thing which called himself Uglúk. Where the other Uruks would steal, he would steal and burn. Where the others would scare, he would terrify. And where others might fall asleep upon the job of guarding… well, he was Uglúk. And he guarded. 

            Yet the Uruks, despite what they would have the hobbits believe, were not without fear and suspicion. Rumors spread throughout their number as well and with just as much truth at their kernel. Someone was smuggling hobbits out of Bywater beneath their very noses. They would receive orders from the White Hand to ship a family to The Tower, only to find their homes empty when they went to find the condemned. When the Uruks could not comply, one of their numbers was killed; especially since, as it was rumored, for every hobbit that would disappear from Bywater, the White Hand would receive a small piece of parchment with a small golden flower drawn upon it – a flower known to all friends of the fair realms as a golden elanor of Lorien.

            Yet Uglúk was not convinced. He, after all, was Uglúk. 

One warm September day, a day that previously would have been used for an evening party or a languorous walk through the countryside, Uglúk stood guard at his post with a few fellow Uruks, telling the story of the most recent victim to the White Hand's growing frustration with these escapes.

            "Bah!" he exclaimed, upon hearing a defense for the deceased. "Lurtz was a fool! Have you heard the stupidities he stooped to upon letting the creatures go free?"

            The crowd murmured to the negative, so Uglúk willingly began the story.

            "Well, you swine, listen closely and maybe you'll learn something. This Lurtz had taken some wine from these miserable halflings and gotten hisself sluggard on it. While guarding, a cart came riding up with some bundles of hay, bound for the South Farthing, or some such place as they calls it. Being too full of hisself, he gave the hay a quick tussle and let the driver go on his way. Few minutes later, some a' them Southrons rode up, and yelled to him, 'Has a driver been by with a cart a' hay?' The fool shouted back that the man had, and he had let him go through. 'You fool!' the Southron shouted back. 'That man was the Golden Elanor hisself, with one a' them hobbit families in the hay!'"

            The Uruks laughed heartily at this, reveling in the foolishness of their comrade, who so obviously had earned his death if he had made such a foolish error. But Uglúk simply slapped their heads to shut them up. 

            "Maggots, shut your traps! The driver of the cart wasn't the Golden Elanor!"

            This silenced the Uruks. 

            "No! Not much time later, Lugdush rode up and Lurtz asked if the man in the cart had been found. Lugdush didn't know a thing a' what he was saying: the Golden Elanor's gang had taken another family from their homes, and had escaped them all, disguised as bloody Southrons!"

            Uglúk let out a hearty laugh at Lurtz's failing, but the other Uruks simply gazed among themselves nervously. Such a strange and bewitching plot had been loosed upon Lurtz, and only Uglúk seemed confident that he himself could see through such a plan. As the sun lowered her head beyond the horizon, Uglúk sent the others away to man their guardhouses, settling himself in a position of watchfulness, his whip at the ready beside him. 

            When the sun's warmth had faded to a mere haze in the far-off distance, Uglúk observed a pony drawing a cart pulling up to his gate. He stood to his feet, scratched the metal shards lodged on his nose, and grabbed for his whip. 

            "What ho, maggot?" he called to the driver of the cart, an elderly woman hobbit bundled in rags, her head nearly entirely hidden beneath a cap of greasy curls. She only looked up with a cough as the cart pulled to a stop by the creature, and then with red-rimmed and droopy eyes, devoid of all life and health. 

            Despite his repulsion, Uglúk stepped forward and eyed the hobbit cruelly. "No passage allowed, unless you have business I allow, hag." 

            The woman paused to cough some more, finally answering with a broken and hoarse voice, deeper than the wont of most women. "Please let me pass, sir. Me son – he's in the back – has been feeling quite ill lately."

            "Nothing wrong with him a little whippin' won't cure," he growled, heading for the back of the covered cart. 

            The woman coughed again, then chuckled a little. "Oh, I doubt it, sir. He's gone all cold and fallen asleep, ever since he saw one of them riders dressed all in black by our house."

            Uglúk's black blood ran cold. "Rider in black?"

            "Oh yes, sir. I only saw him out the window, but I just about died of fear just from the sight of him. And my poor son – right up in that black rider's way as he came barreling down the road. He slashed my son's arm terribly, and now he's been making the most terrible noises." She paused before remarking, "Almost like he's becoming a wraith of some sorts himself, sir." 

            Uglúk jumped back in alarm from the cart – he knew only too well the dangers of a Morgul blade cut. He cracked his whip against the cart's pony – a small, bony creature – and bid the woman leave in no dignified words. After ensuring the cart and its occupants were far down the road, he returned to his chair to shudder alone. 

            Yet he would not have long to wait. A vibration upon the ground alerted him to the arrival of his kinsman before his eyes saw them. 

            "A cart…" the approaching Uruk called out, while still a few feet from Uglúk. 

            "What cart?" he replied.

            "A cart headed this way…"

            Before the Uruk could speak further, Uglúk replied hesitantly, "Driven by an old hag and her son?"

            The Uruk went as white as the Hand painted upon his forehead. "You have not let them pass?"

            Uglúk gulped. 

            "Maggot! That cart contained those hobbit mistresses condemned to the Tower yesterday! And," the Uruk added, seeing Uglúk writhing in misery. "it was suspected that her driver was none other than the Golden Elanor hisself." 

Chapter Two:

Bree: "The Prancing Pony"

            "What ho, Nob!" called the customers to the famous inn, sending the sweet natured hobbit lad running to fetch the men more of his famous soup. 

            "What will they be wanting now?" he muttered under his breath, scurrying to and fro in the busy kitchen. Yet under his breath was not quite beneath the hearing of Bob, who also was running to and fro.

            "Ale, good Nob!" he grumbled back. "You didn't expect old Thistlewool to have done with only one tankard, did you?"

            "Aye, he and Appledore did look uncommon thirsty," Nob crookedly smiled, racing out the door to fetch the man another pint. 

            Without the kitchen, in the warmth of the Common Room, mine host Butterbur raised a glass to the collection of hobbits, dwarves, and men gathered within, grumbling and gossiping about the happenings in Bywater, among other matters of the world. 

            "Doesn't seem natural," grumbled Thistlewool, now comfortably set up with a full mug. "All them queer folk coming in, taking over; if it could happen there, what's to say they won't turn their squinty little eyes to Bree next?"

            "Ah, never you fear, Thistlewool," called back Mr. Rushlight. "They've been settled over there for quite awhile, never even bothering Hobbiton. Why should they come all the way over here?"

            Butterbur, perhaps a bit intoxicated from enjoying the company of his guests and his own ale or perhaps simply staying true to a wizard's description of his mind as like to a lumberyard, but he jumped to his feet and laughed. "I shouldn't care a whit for a one of them coming to Bree, and if he did, I'd run him out of the town on a fence rail! I don't care if they were one of them creatures or even a hobbit who works for 'em, I'd sooner spit my ale at him than share a glass with him!"

            "A toast, then, to our host Butterbur," piped up a hobbit seated near the corner of the room, a sandy-haired lad with his glass upraised – and a softly sinister twinkle of amusement in his eye.  

            Toasting his glass towards his guest, Butterbur smiled and drank a sip. "And a toast back to you, my young lad."

            For a reason unknown to anyone within the inn, the young hobbit found this quite amusing, though he kept his laughter to himself.

Chapter Three:

The Refugees

            "Sir," Nob interrupted gently, "I think I hear more visitors approaching."

            "Bless your ears for being so sharp, Nob," rang out from the door as a dripping wet Meriadoc Brandybuck entered and bid salutations to the familiar crowd within, rubbing his feet dry on the rug by the door. 

            "Bless my soul, if it isn't Master Brandybuck once again!" Butterbur said, rushing to the hobbit to clap him on the shoulder in greeting and bending down to help him out of his wet cloak. "You know, we've been talking 'bout those tragic events happening down at Bywater, and I was just about to mention that those folk have nothing to fear, thank to you and your friends!"

            Merry's face grew quite pale, and he laughed uncomfortably, looking about the room in the direction of the sandy-haired stranger. "I don't know what you're talking about, my good sir."

            "Oh, don't mind him!" Butterbur laughed, seeing the direction of Merry's eyes. "We've been talking with him all evening – a good-natured and loyal hobbit if I've ever met one."

            "Well…" Merry said, turning his attention to Nob nonetheless. "I trust you have soup enough for four more?"

            "Oh certainly, Master Meriadoc," Nob said. "Plenty more, actually. We're also expecting your friend Master Samwise and his wife here tonight as well."  
            "Sam _and _Rosie?" Merry asked, turning to Butterbur. 

            But his question was cut short by the sound of three horses arriving outside. Bob brought the two in a moment later: an also quite wet Peregrin Took who seemed quite oblivious to the wet, most likely due to the amount of attention he seemed to be paying to his companion, a lovely young hobbit lass. Behind these two also entered a belligerent looking elder woman hobbit, shaking the cold and wet from herself.  

            "Well, Nob, looks as though you had better fetch that soup quicker than quick!"

            "And a pint!" Pippin added after, grinning as he gave his friend a hug and his host a courteous bow. Butterbur smiled and bid the four enter a small parlour already set up for them, just off of the Common Room and with a roaring fire already blazing. 

            "What can I say in thanks, sirs?" the young lass asked, sinking into a chair near the fire. 

            "Simply that you have not suffered too much in your trip, and that my friend has been a perfect gentlehobbit, Miss Diamond," Meriadoc said, grinning and pulling a pipe from his bag. 

            "Oh, both are quite true, good sir. I can never thank you enough; what you did was nothing short of a miracle."

            "Nay, miss," Pippin said gently. "We were but the hands; simply the tool of our leader. It is to him that you owe your life."

            "Your leader?" Mrs. Poppy Baggins asked, her eyes large and full of amazement. "Well then, you must take us to him so that we might thank him!"

            "That is impossible," Merry said between puffs of smoke. "The Golden Elanor works only in shadow, and is known only to his band of followers, all of us sworn to secrecy."

            "The Golden Elanor? What is that?"

            "The Golden Elanor, Miss Diamond, is the name of a humble wayside flower of Lothlorien; but it is also the name chosen to hide the identity of the best and bravest hobbit in all the world, so that he may better succeed in accomplishing the noble task he has set himself to do," said Pippin ardently, before getting up to let in Nob and the soup for the company. 

Chapter Four:

The League of the Golden Elanor

            "I had heard of the Golden Elanor," Diamond said after Nob had left, sipping the warm soup gratefully, "but thought he was only a rumor." She paused as Pippin and Merry simply smiled at this, then added, "Then, how many are in your company?"

            "There are eight of us, sworn to follow and protect our brave and courageous leader in order to save your people," Pippin said, offering her more soup. She shuddered at the memories, but thankfully took more soup. Mrs. Baggins grunted under her breath and puffed herself up in obvious anger. 

            "Our people… Had you ever been to Bywater before, milords?"

            Pippin and Merry nodded an affirmative sadly, thinking back to happier and more carefree days, just as she was doing.

            "It is not merely the creatures that terrorize our lands: some of the hobbits have sided with them as well! Friends and neighbors, now working for them, helping to arrest their fellow hobbit!" Diamond bit her lip to stop the tears from coming at Mrs. Baggins' words. Pippin offered her his pocket-handkerchief. 

            "And not only the men! Did you ever meet Rosie Cotton?"

            Pippin and Merry exchanged worried looks. Mrs. Baggins must not have noticed, for she continued, spite and bitterness in her voice. 

            "That…" She seemed to struggle to find the proper adjective for the bitter taste in her mouth caused by the memory. Unable to find one, she simply continued anyway. "She told those creatures some bitter lie and got Milo and Peony Burrows arrested – taken… who knows where! Wrenched from their homes, carted away by those beasts!"

            "There must be some mistake," Merry interjected. "We do know Miss Rosie – she married one of our good friends and is now a rather popular figure in Hobbiton society. I just can't believe she would've done something so cruel."

            Diamond's eyes fell to the ground in sadness. "I would've liked to believe so too, good sir; she was a good friend of mine." 

Mrs. Baggins, however, was not so swayed. "There is no mistake. She condemned them to some horrific end, and I only hope that our paths will never cross."

            Pippin nervously clambered to his feet and poked his head outside the door, drawing the attention of mine host Butterbur. 

            "What time did you expect Sam and Rosie to be here?"

            "I'm not sure, Master Pippin," he replied, yet his words were drowned out by Nob racing in the room to announce, "Sir, Master Samwise and his wife are here!"

Chapter Five:

Rose

            "I will not see her! I will not see her!" rang out Mrs. Baggins' shrill voice.

            "Goodness, Butterbur! Try to detain them while we get her hidden somewhere!" commanded Merry authoritatively as Pippin tried to steer the two women towards the bedrooms.

            And, in the midst of the chatter, the door clattered open and shut. 

            "Hullo, Butterbur! How goes it with you?"

            Quite confused and befuddled by the activities, Butterbur stumbled from the room, leaving Rosie alone with a worried Pippin and Merry, a saddened Diamond of Long Cleeve, and a rather infuriated looking Poppy Baggins. 

            "Diamond!" Rosie exclaimed, running forward to greet her old friend. "You are safe?"

            "If you don't mind, Miss Rosie, I'm afraid we must be retiring," Mrs. Baggins said sharply. "And I feel it is only right to tell you that I don't wish to speak with you ever again."

            The words hit Rosie like a slap in the face, and she quite literally staggered backwards. Mrs. Baggins, in the meanwhile, left the room in a huff to find her room by herself. Diamond gave Rosie a rather sad look, then sweetly ran to her old friend to give her a hug before following the older woman. The company of three sat in an awkward silence for a moment, broken only by the sound of an obnoxious voice coming from the door. 

Chapter Six: 

An Exquisite of '18

            Samwise Gamgee, as the chronicles of the time inform us, was in this year of grace 3018, still a year or two on the right side of forty. Short, pleasantly plump, and gifted with a full head of curly light brown hair, Samwise would've been called quite good-looking, were it not for a perpetual silly and almost childlike expression in his eyes. But, nonetheless, he made for pleasant enough company when one could endure his silly phrases and infantile conversation. And, after all, he had married a beautiful and clever wife, which set all hobbit tongues wagging in curiosity. (No hobbit, after all, can resist gossiping about family history)   

            Miss Rosie Cotton had been the jewel of the Bywater crowd. Known for keeping only the most charming and intelligent of company, it was considered quite an honor to be allowed a dance with her or to be able to discuss the weather for any amount of time. It came, therefore, as quite a shocking surprise when she announced her plans to marry to the Hobbiton gardener. Those who didn't know her well might claim, "It's only natural for a farmer's daughter to marry a gardener" and those who didn't know him well might also claim, "Why shouldn't she settle down?" but to those who knew the situation clearly, it proved quite a puzzle and was often discussed at the local inns and by the gossiping housewives. 

            In any case, they had wed and kept a lovely house at number 3 Bagshot Row. The Hobbiton folk had accepted her with ease and joy, and Sam for his part seemed quite blindly devoted to her. Yet all the housewives' predictions sadly came true, and all too soon. Miss Rosie had quite obviously grown to despise her stupid husband, and took no pains to disguise this fact. For once, the people of Hobbiton were grateful for Sam's stupidity, as he seemed unable to notice the disgust she held for him, and also felt grateful for Bilbo's departure some years ago, for Sam often traveled with Frodo to visit the poor old hobbit. 

            As the years had passed by, the topic slowly faded from conversation and into the realm of acknowledged fact. The hobbits simply shrugged their shoulders and passed the whole affair off as the fault of that crazy old Mr. Bilbo, whose insanity had obviously been catching.

            In any case, it was this sweet-natured boy who now entered the inn, brushing the rain off his cloak and giving his old friends a rather lopsided smile.

            "Bless me! Mr. Pippin! Mr. Merry! If this ain't the greatest surprise I've had all day!" He raced to hug his friends, then noticed the uncomfortable look on his wife's face. "Rosie, you look like the cat that's got his tail stuck in the door, if you pardon the expression."

            Rosie simply rolled her eyes and sighed. "No, Sam, I haven't gotten my tail stuck in the door. However, I was just insulted by an old… friend."

            Sam's mouth dropped wide open. "Well bless my stars! Who'd ever insult you?"

            "Never mind, Sam," Rosie said patronizingly, before turning her attentions to Butterbur who had once again entered the room, now his head was clearer. "Sir, has my brother arrived yet?"

            "Mr. Carl is just riding up now, miss," Butterbur announced before leaving the room again, scratching his head as he was quite certain that he was forgetting something. 

            "Very well. I trust you three will excuse me, so I can say goodbye to my brother in private?"

            It would've been bad form to refuse, so the three simply bowed as she left. It was only Pippin, whose mind had been sharper and his senses keener since meeting Miss Diamond, that noticed Sam's eyes follow his wife's retreating form, watching her with a sad and hopeless longing.

Chapter Seven:

The Courtyard

            Stepping outside the inn, Rosie shivered against the sudden cold and pulled her cloak closer. The sudden silence filled her ears, until she heard steps upon the courtyard ground. Racing forward, she threw her arms around her younger brother and wept in joy as they hugged. 

            "Dear Nibs, you cannot be going away!"

            "I won't be gone long, Rosie," Nibs countered, grinning as he pulled his sister back under the covered archway. "I'm just going to Rivendell to see Mr. Bilbo. I'll be home soon."

            "I know," she said, keeping her arm around his waist and smiling gently at him. "I just worry about you so when you're gone. The world isn't a safe place anymore, and I don't know what I'd do without you."

            Nibs laughed. "My silly sister, you talk as though I was the only person you had left in the world. What of the rest of our family? What of Sam?"

            The smile that found Rosie upon the mention of their family disappeared with the mention of her husband. Nibs worriedly turned to her.

            "What is it?"

            "Nothing…"

            "No, it is something," Nibs' smile disappeared, and he turned quite serious. "I've… wanted to ask you something for some time. You know I'm not one to listen to gossip, but after seeing you and Sam together… well…"

            Rosie turned away, but Nibs followed and continued.

            "Does he know… does he know what happened with the Burrows?"

            Rosie laughed bitterly. 

            "Does he know that I condemned them to arrest and most likely death?" Seeing the worried look in her brother's eye, her bitter voice softened. "Yes, Nibs, he knows. I told him after we were married."

            "But you told what happened, right? You told him the circumstances, so that he would understand…"

            She turned away again, willing back the tears that came to her eyes. "No. It was too late for that. He had already heard the story from someone else, and wasn't willing to listen to my side of the story, so I didn't even bother trying to set him straight. What would be the point? He hates me, Nibs."

            "He doesn't hate you! He loved you!"

            Again, she laughed softly and Nibs tried to see the expression on her face, hidden in the inky darkness of the night. 

            "He did – once. He adored me, he seemed to think I was the earth and the sky, and I was only too willing to let him think that. I'd never been loved so strongly before, Nibs, and I was only a girl. But now…" She sighed gently, then pulled herself up and set her jaw. "I see what a fool I was. He loved me so ardently because he was so simple – he could think of nothing else. But his simplicity has become my downfall, because his simple pride will not allow him to forgive me. But come, Nibs, let us not talk of such things."

Chapter Eight:

The Accredited Hobbit

            The evening had drawn to a close. Nibs had left for Rivendell, after kissing his sister farewell and leaving her on the steps to the inn. Sam had the decency to leave her alone, preferring the company of the Common Room as she watched her brother leave. She tried to be grateful to him for this, for the thoughtfulness that she would wish to be alone, but she still nursed bitter feelings within herself. 

            As she watched her brother ride away, memories flooded back to the days of courting, where Sam had seemed such a sweet and ardent slave to her, bringing her flowers, devoted to her every wish. And there was such an intensity to his love, it had fascinated her. Yet, not but a few hours after their wedding it was gone. She had tried to convince herself that his love had been a mere delusion on her part, for there was certainly no hint of it now. 

            Her mind also wandered to the Burrows'. She remembered listening to Nibs whisper rhapsodiously to her of Myrtle Burrows' beauty and grace. She remembered watching him write sonnets and letters of love to her, all of which he kept secret and never delivered. And she remembered, with a great deal of pain, the day Nibs had finally told Myrtle how he felt. She closed her eyes as she remembered the fear when her brother did not return home, the wrath when she found him beaten and near dead. Nibs' sobbing eyes as he told her of Mosco and Moto ganging up on him for daring to speak to their sister. Her own deception as she told the wrong people that the Burrows' were hiding condemned hobbits in their home…

            And, for her part, she could understand Sam's blind anger. Hearing from his Frodo that his master's cousins had been arrested, condemned by his own wife's foolish words. She knew the love and respect Sam had for Frodo. Obviously, nothing she could've said would've convinced Sam that she was innocent. 

            Suddenly coming to her senses and realizing the lateness of the hour, Rosie shivered and turned to climb the steps to the inn. However she paused, hearing the door open and a figure begin to climb down the steps towards her. Within a moment, she heard the figure approach and greet her.            "Miss Cotton… or rather, Mrs. Gamgee?"

            "Lotho!" she exclaimed, stepping towards the sandy-haired hobbit, who bowed upon her approach. She smiled – it was not often she saw someone she knew from her youth. "It's good to see you again! I was afraid I would be quite bored the rest of the evening!"

            "Bored? You?" Lotho asked in a sarcastic fashion, scratching his nose and smiling. "I had heard you were enjoying all sorts of adventures."

            "I'm afraid adventures are not quite as exciting as people would make them out to be. Other lands never have the peace and joy of home."  
            "But, my lady, which land do you now call home?"

            Rosie ignored the question, so Lotho moved on. "I trust, although you have quite obviously given your heart to Hobbiton, you have not entirely turned your back on Bywater."

            "No indeed!" Rosie exclaimed. "If those miserable guards didn't keep it so tightly closed up, I should find myself there quite often."

            "Then, perhaps you might consider doing it a great favor?"

            Rosie stopped, turning to face her old friend in surprise. "What favor could I do for Bywater?"

            "Have you heard of the Golden Elanor?"

            Rosie laughed aloud, the light of the lantern by the door catching the twinkle of her eyes. "Of course! Who hasn't? Everywhere people speak of him, especially in Hobbiton! I think it's the only thing people can talk about!"

            "Well, I have come to Bree in order that I might find out more about him. You see, I have lately been working with the guards of Bywater," Seeing Rosie's worried look, he added with a small grin, "After all, the sooner we help them find what they need, the sooner they will leave our land! You must understand the logic behind that, Rosie." Seeing her give a suspicious nod, he continued. "Anyway, I have come first to Bree and will soon be making my way to Hobbiton in order to find out who he is. He is making things quite difficult for the Uruks, and I fear the longer he is at large, the longer they will stay in our land. If, however, he was found and handed over to them, they might consent to leave sooner… do you see where I'm going with this?"

            Rosie looked quite shocked at her friend, and took a step back. "Then you would send a courageous and wonderful man to his death, in order to save your own life?"

            "You misunderstand me, Rosie! Not for _my_ life, but the life of all the hobbits of Bywater! No one is safe while they are there; the sooner they find the Ri… what they are looking for, the sooner their leader will call them back and our lands will be ours again, set up with leaders selected from the people and allowed to go back to our own ways again. Don't you see why we must find this man?"

            Rosie listened to his speech with a mixture of alarm and disgust. It was true she had heard of the Elanor through the gossip of her neighbors, but it was only a half-truth. She listened with utter rapture for any news they had of him, she made her own conjectures as to his identity, and she followed the accounts of all of his exploits with a pure joy. He had become her own hero, the epitome of bravery and courage and all that was good in the world, mixed in with an almost Tookish sense of adventure and heroics. She turned from Lotho with a laugh and started up the stairs, back into the inn. At the door, she turned back.

            "And why do you tell me this?"

            "Because I want you to find him for me."

            Rosie did a double-take. "You want me to condemn him to you?"

            "You did it once."

            Her face fell, set to anger. She tossed her curls in defiance. "Besides, how could I find him? He is sworn to secrecy."  
            Lotho bounded up the steps next to her. "But you are the famous Miss Cotton. You go everywhere and know everyone. You would find him quite easily."

            "Never," she snarled back, snapping open the door and slamming it shut behind her. Lotho watched this with amusement, then called through the door.

            "I shall see you in Hobbiton, Rosie."

Chapter Nine:

The Outrage

            Not much later, a charming cart hitched to Sam's dear pony Bill bore away Rosie and Sam from the inn, leaving Pippin and Merry alone in the small parlour, after Butterbur brought them another round of ale and some cheese to nibble on as they talked late into the evening. After ensuring the inn to be silent and all its occupants to be cozily asleep in their beds, the two settled by the fire to talk business. Well, business of sorts. 

            "The trip went well, I trust," Merry asked, answered by Pippin's nod as he gazed into the fire. (No doubt seeing within the flames a pair of sweet blue eyes and a wealth of curls) Merry chuckled, and gave his friend a gentle punch.

            "I think I need hardly ask whether your trip was pleasant." 

            Pippin simply smiled, blushing softly. Merry raised his glass in toast to his friend.

            "She is a lovely lass and I wish you the greatest of joy. Now, onto business. You had no difficulties; but did he?"

            "Of course not," Pippin laughed, shaking his head in amazement. "He escorted the two of them all the way from Bywater to the Brandywine, dressed as an old woman!" Pippin and Merry shared a laugh at the thought of their brave leader in curls and petticoats. "But they shall remain safe enough here, he says. Staying with the Heathertoes, I believe. Safe enough from those brigands. He wants you to meet with him next Thursday; he's sent Nibs to meet with the next family, but they're both going to be hard-pressed to get them out after this last escape. But here's his orders – he gave them to me when he handed off the hobbit lasses."

            Pippin pulled from his pocket a small parchment with the next orders written out on it. The two hobbits huddled near the fire to make out the gentle handwriting, before they would destroy the evidence. Unfortunately, they were not quick enough. 

            Not three minutes later, the two hobbits found themselves bound and gagged on the floor of the inn, badly beaten, with their assailants riding away down the East Road. As the Uruks rode on ahead, Lotho looked over the documents taken from Merry and Pippin's persons, and grinned evilly. 

            "So," he muttered under his breath, "Nibs is a traitor after all, and is headed for Bywater. Dear Rosie, I think you _will _help me after all."

Chapter Ten:

In the Hall of Fire

            The evening had just begun to fall, the large gatherings had enjoyed a great banquet, and all now retired to the warmth and peace of the Hall of Fire to hear tales and songs of the days of yore. The Last Homely House east of the Sea retained its title for the evening, as the gentle wind and gracious and graceful company softened even the most anxious of hearts. Rosie, for instance, had arrived with Sam to visit Bilbo and see the Elves for herself, only to hear that Nibs had arrived safely, enjoyed his stay, and had already departed for the safety of home. 

            Thus, her spirits for the evening were high, as she enjoyed the songs of the Elves. Her comfort, however, was to be sadly short-lived, for another was to enter the Hall.

            "Rose," came a harsh, low voice from behind her. "Imagine the chance of meeting you here."

            "Lotho!" she replied, nearly jumping from her seat. "What are you doing here?"

            "Simply enjoying the music, my lady," he retorted, his voice slightly sarcastic and falling in volume as he leaned closer. "Though I had hoped to speak with you. I never had a chance to speak with you in Hobbiton – I would almost have sworn you were avoiding me when you left to come here."

            "I had no desire to see you again, nor do I wish to see you now. I would ask you to leave, or I will myself." She looked around the room quickly, trying to find a familiar face she could go to in order to rid herself of Lotho. But Sam had gone somewhere with Frodo, and Bilbo was surrounded by Elves, singing his latest rhyme. "But if you wish to speak with me, I would ask you to do it quickly and then be gone."

            "Certainly. I merely wished to know where your brother is."

            "My brother?" she asked, turning in curiosity. 

            "Yes, I was told he was heading here."

            "He was here, but returned home before we arrived. Why do you ask?"

            "No reason," Lotho said slyly, scratching his nose and looking around the room in mock ambivalence. "It is simply that I believe I saw him the other day in Bywater."

            "Bywater? No, he was heading home." Rosie's heart began to beat faster.  
            "Hmmm… very odd. Well, I guess it must've been someone who just looked like him being arrested and carted away to the South." Lotho rose to walk away, but Rosie pulled him back down to sit beside her once again.

            "What are you saying, you worm? My brother has been arrested?"

            Lotho laughed cruelly. "You are a quick one, Miss Rosie. Unfortunately, it seems your brother has had a double life you did not know about: working for the Golden Elanor. Unfortunately, he wasn't so careful about covering his tracks."

            Rosie's eyes grew in horror. "He's been arrested? Lotho, what… what can be done?"  
            "Well… I suppose I _could_ try to get him released – I do have some power with the Uruks after all – but…"

            "But what?"

            "Well, I couldn't barter for his life with nothing, after all! However, if I knew the identity of the Golden Elanor, that would be a different story, wouldn't it?"

            Rosie sat back in stunned silence. Lotho continued. 

            "If I knew that information, I could get just about anything I wanted. Now, look here." He produced a letter from his pocket, one that had been taken from the pocket of Meriadoc Brandybuck. "This letter clearly shows your brother to be a traitor, one in league with the Golden Elanor. However, it also makes this statement: "I shall attend the Bag End party on the 22nd of September if you need further instruction." Now, milady, what further information does one need?"

            "Why do you need my help, then?"

            Lotho turned away, his jaw hardening slightly. "I fear I have not made myself very popular by having dealings with the Uruks. However, you are still quite popular, a friend to all and everyone's confidant. And I can provide you with a further clue: Mr. Meriadoc Brandybuck and Mr. Peregrin Took will also be there. I was good enough to leave them alive and unarrested for that very purpose. I know them to be members of the League as well, so you should talk to them to glean further information."

            "What you propose is infamous. You would have me sentence a man to death?"

            Lotho's cruel lips curled into a sneer. "But consider: you would save your brother from a fate _worse_ than death. And also, you would help the people of Bywater rid themselves of these Uruks. All this simply by giving me a single name. What could be simpler?"

            Both fell silent: Lotho in the delight of victory, Rosie in contemplation. She considered the brave man to whom her people owed so much, but also the brother she loved so dearly. She yearned above all to find someone in whom she could confide, someone to advise her. But all she could see was Lotho, grinning cruelly as he stood.

            "I'm afraid I must be going now, but you will consider my offer, I hope."


	2. Chapters 11 through 20

Chapter Eleven:

The Birthday Party

            Though it did not have the glory the Hobbiton folk remembered of old Bilbo's 111st birthday party, Frodo's 50th birthday party still retained quite a glimmer of delight and amusement among both the young and old. Gandalf the Grey appeared again, to the delight of all, after a prolonged absence, armed once again with magnificent fireworks and tales to tell. Food and drink of all kind and special gifts were abundant and everyone found themselves having a marvelous time.

            Everyone, that is, except Rosie, who outwardly seemed to enjoy the evening, but inwardly was a nervous wreak. Lotho's evil 'either-or' was still running through her mind, and she considered everyone before her in light of his news. Her state of mind was further destroyed by seeing Lotho arrive, and begin to talk with the Gaffer and her brother Tom. She immediately headed over to hear what he had to say. 

            "Are you acquainted with the Golden Elanor, Mr. Gamgee? It seems you of all people, so well known, might have an idea of who he might be."

            "No, I daresay," chortled old Hamfast. "Nobody knows! Quite an odd occurrence, I can tell you! The whole place is in an uproar."

            Lotho bowed to Rosie as she walked over. "But perhaps the women have an idea of who he could be?"

            Rosie simply smiled in defiance. "No, my good sir. But we would all willing die for him; we count him so very heroic and powerful. We tremble for him when he is in danger, and we exalt with him in the hour of his victory."

             A simple laugh caused the party to turn, to see Sam walking by with a pint in hand and a smile on his face. "And I'm afraid we husbands must stand by and watch while our wives worship a shadow."

Chapter Twelve:

The Scrap of Parchment

            But that was only the beginning of Sam's amusements for the evening. Following in the grand tradition of Mr. Bilbo, Sam composed a poem for the evening, 'in honor of Lotho', he claimed:

            "_We seek him here, we seek him there._

_            Those Uruks seek him everywhere._

_            Is he in the Shire - or perhaps Valinor? _

_            That demned, elusive Elanor?"_

            The hobbits were delighted: good company, good food, and a witty rhyme to pass the evening. Rosie, however, was not amused by her husband's banal pastime and left him in order to find the dancing. A short while into the evening, she caught sight of the appearance of Merry and Pippin, still slightly bruised but the not worse for wear, considering the serious thrashing they had received. To Rosie's amusement, Pippin made straight for Diamond, with whom he spent a considerable time thereafter conversing with in a quiet corner. 

            As she passed from partner to partner on the dancing floor, her thoughts began to wonder about the identity of this stranger, this hero which had become a demi-god in her mind. A burning curiosity and desire to know his identity began to surge through her, and not just for the safety of Nibs. She began to feel that she must know who – wait... 

            Nearly causing a crash in the dance, Rosie froze and watched. Diamond had left to talk to someone else in the crowd, and Pippin stood by the Party Tree, alone and rather listless looking. Yet this was not what caught her eye. Rather, what struck her eye was Frodo walking past Pippin, brushing up against him, and sneakily dropping a piece of paper into Pippin's hand, which Pippin immediately hid within the breastpocket of his coat. Having accomplished this, Pippin then turned and headed for a small, out of the way table with no one else around, where he sat down and began to read it. 

            Rosie excused herself from the dance with all the grace she could muster. There was no turning back. All thoughts of that brave heroic were gone from her mind: all she could think of was her dear brother, locked up in some horrific prison somewhere, begging her to help him. She made her way, oh so carefully!, over to Pippin and flopped down onto a chair beside the table.

            "Oh, I feel a bit faint!"

            Pippin, ever the gentlehobbit, carefully helped her down and inquired if he could fetch anything for her. She declined; she merely needed to sit a moment and rest. Closing her eyes and holding her head seemed enough to calm Pippin's nerves, and he sat back down to his note. Rosie, however, kept a corner of her eye on this young hobbit and, when he placed the corner of the note in the burning candle sitting upon the table, she saw her brother's chance for life going up in flames. 

            "Oh, how clever of you, Pippin!" she exclaimed, grabbing the paper from his hands, blowing out the flame, and fanning it before her face. "Mother always taught me that the smell of burning parchment could cure fatigue."

            Pippin obviously had had no such idea, and looked quite nervous at the idea of having the paper out of his hands. However, decorum dictated that he could not simply snatch it away again, and he simply sat and watched carefully that the paper should not leave his sight. Rosie began to grow nervous by his constant watchfulness, but no more nervous than he. He remembered the stories of her betrayal, and remembered that a friend to the Uruks was present at the party. Therefore, it was only by the merest of chances – Gandalf happening to shoot of a firecracker that seemed to cause quite an uproar – that Rosie managed to seize the chance of gazing upon its contents. She managed to catch only a short phrase before Pippin's eyes turned back, and when they did she placed the paper once more upon the flame. 

            "For shame, Master Peregrin," she teased gently, "you should know better than to exchange love notes. And you should know better than to read them in public. Imagine, if I hadn't been such a good friend and refused to snoop, I might've seen the sweet nothings you wished my good friend to read."

            Pippin's heart lifted as he watched the paper go up in flames and believed the contents to be safe. Unfortunately, only one of his beliefs was true.    

Chapter Thirteen:

Either – Or?

            Rosie returned to the dance floor, the few words she had read now emblazed upon her mind. "Plan falling into place. Wait for my signal…" Those words seemed unimportant and the initial flames had destroyed the next few words, but the last words of the letter began to run over and over again in her mind. "If you need to talk to me, I shall be in the Bag End library at one o'clock precisely." The note had been passed by Frodo Baggins, but was he the Elanor, or merely a carrier? And what, or rather who, would the library hold at one o'clock?

            Once again, her mind began to deliberate over her options. Could she truly condemn this wonderful man to almost certain torment and death? But could she condemn Nibs to the same fate? If the Elanor was captured, would the Uruks leave or would they simply stand unopposed? Only a few hours remained before one o'clock, when her one remaining hold on her brother's life would vanish. Occasionally she saw Lotho across the crowd, and she would shudder at the idea of giving him this information. But occasionally she would also see her brothers across the floor, and tears would rise to her eyes. Memories came – both of the happier days with her younger brother, but also of the joy and gratitude expressed by Diamond upon being rescued. 

            Rosie felt she would go mad, and perhaps would have if dinner was not announced, and the Gaffer arrived to escort her to the tables. 

Chapter Fourteen:

One O'clock Precisely!

            Dinner proved quite entertaining for everyone else. Rosie seemed to be quite a charm, Sam to be amusing in a rather brainless sort of way, and Frodo had returned from Rivendell for the first time in quite awhile, and entertained all with his stories of the queer ways of the Elves and Bilbo's poems. Food and drink was abundant and laughter was more so. Nothing of any importance was discussed, and Rosie had to work hard to keep from screaming at the overall triviality of it all. Not twenty minutes into the meal, she excused herself from her seat, made eye contact with Lotho, and walked towards the darker corners of the field, unlit by the fires and torches. She had made up her mind. Her brother was her main concern. The mysterious stranger – well – Rosie only hoped that, as he had eluded capture so many times in the past, he would do so again. After all, she was not giving Lotho a name, merely a location. 

            She started when she saw the Gaffer sitting there, quietly enjoying the soft wind and the distant noise of the party. Fearing him seeing her alone with Lotho, she smiled and took his arm as she sank into the seat next to him.

            "Dear father, could I ask a great favor of you?"

            "Certainly, my dear," he said, placing down his pipe and smiling lovingly at his daughter-in-law.

            "I'm feeling rather tired, and I believe I shall be heading home soon. Would you let Sam know? I don't want him looking for me after I've gone."

            "Of course, my dear," he said, creakingly getting up from his chair and tottering off after the party. She watched him go, wishing she could follow and leave the grim task she had as of yet still before her undone.

            "You have news for me?" Lotho asked, having snuck up behind her, his voice triumphant. She sighed. 

            "Yes," she said, her voice barely audible. "I do not know who he is, but I know he will be in the library at one o'clock." A tear rolled down her cheek as she watched Lotho's face light up in a sickly joy. "Please – what will you do?"

            "That depends," Lotho said, grinning malevolently, "on who I shall find in the library at one o'clock."

            "What if you find more than one somebody?"

            "Oh, it doesn't matter. It will still narrow it down. Other papers I found on Peregrin and Meriadoc list several places the traitors are wont to stay. When I find who the Elanor is, I will track him as far as these places; he will lead me to their latest capture. When that has happened…" Lotho rubbed his hands together in delight. 

            "And Nibs?" Rosie added in alarm, as Lotho stood to reenter the party. He stopped, considered it, and turned back to her.

            "If the Elanor is caught, I shall hold true to my bargain and will try to save your brother's life." He bowed and left Rosie alone in the shadows. 

            His mind turned to other matters as he started up the hill towards Bag End. He smiled devilishly; she had given him the information he needed and the Elanor was nearly in his grasp. And, all this, without the slightest hope of reward! His latest journey to Isengard had shown him the wizard in a foul temper. The White Hand had captured many hobbits from Bywater, questioning them all under great torment about the location of the Ring. Once he was certain they knew nothing, he would send them to Mordor, claiming to have captured them for the Dark Lord. Yet the Eye was not so foolish: before the White Hand had a chance to question Nibs, a Wraith had arrived to steal the important cargo away to Cirith Ungol, awaiting questioning by the Dark Lord. Rosie's brother, therefore, was out of his hands. Yet, the capture of the Elanor would not go completely unrewarded: he, certainly, would receive much thanks from the White Hand, especially as the wizard seemed quite convinced that whoever this nuisance was also held the Ruling Ring; find him, and they would find the Ring. The White Hand would take over Middle-Earth, and the ruling of the Shire had been quite neatly promised to him. Lotho rubbed his hands; yes, the plan was coming together and would fall into place so neatly and effortlessly. 'Twas a pity about poor Rosie, but such was the ways of the world, after all.

            The green door opened with a creak, and Lotho cautiously crept his way through the house. Past the coat hooks lining the walls; one, two three doors down to the left, Lotho peeped through the door and found what he was looking for. Bilbo's old study, complete with walls lined with books and desks covered with papers, he had found the room with about twenty minutes to spare. He was surprised to find a fire roaring in the fireplace ("Though why not if a meeting is planned?" he thought to himself) and was doubly surprised to hear the sound of snoring behind him. After jumping at the noise, he turned to find Sam Gamgee spread out on a couch, a blanket wrapped around his feet, snoring away the party spirits. Lotho smiled and took his advice, settled down on another couch, put his feet up, and waited. 

Chapter Fifteen:

Doubt

            Rosie sat in the darkness still, unable to return to the party and pretend to be gay and carefree. Her thoughts went to the library of Bag End, willing the mysterious stranger to not show up, and yet hoping beyond hope that he would. Lotho's terrible 'either-or' still hung in her mind: soon, she would have the blood of some sweet soul upon her hands – either her brother or her hero. 

            She was so lost in thought, she didn't hear Hamfast return, and jumped when he spoke.

            "You must've thought I'd forgotten about you!" he puffed, settling down in the chair with a sigh of relief. "But I had quite the time trying to track down that ninnyhammer son of mine. And seems he was quite tired too; he was snuggled up in Bilbo's library, dead asleep. But I let him know."

            Hamfast pulled his pipe back out of his pocket, and sighed contentedly with it. Rosie, however, turned her thoughts elsewhere. 

            "Did you see the time while you were in there, father?"

            "Yes, it is a little after one, my dear."

            Her heart rose. "And was there anyone else in the room?"

            "No…" he puffed on the pipe, then added, "Nay, there was! That little pimple of a creature, Lotho S-B was in the corner sleeping, too. Seems it's quite the place for naps of that kind."

            "No one else?"

            "No, my dear. Why?"

            Rosie jumped from her chair and started an ascent of the hill towards Bag End. The dear old Gaffer must've thought all her senses were gone, but seemed content to let her leave. Rosie's thoughts went wild. Had the Elanor evaded Lotho? Had his plan failed? What then would become of Nibs? She had tried her hardest, she had spied and had betrayed him, surely that was worth something, even if Lotho had not been able to capture him. 

            On her way up the hill, she ran quite literally into Lotho himself, so lost in thought they both were. She grabbed him by his waistcoat.

            "Lotho, what has happened?"

            "What do you mean, fair lady?"

            She nearly growled in rage. "You know perfectly well what I mean! Have you caught the Elanor? Who was in the library?"

            "The Elanor, my dear lady," he said, with an evil grin. "He did appear. However, your brother's life still hangs on a thread. I suggest you pray that the thread will not snap."

            "But I worked for you!" she cried aloud. "I did what you asked! What will happen to Nibs?"

            "You must be patient. When the Elanor is safely in my hands, and on his way to his justice, then I will do what I can for your brother."

            He began to walk away down the hill, leaving her stupefied and frightened, and quite alone. Seeing him fading into the shadows, she called after him, "Lotho! Give me some hope!"

            He disappeared, his low voice springing from within the shadows, mingling with them, "Pray that the thread will not snap." And he was gone.

Chapter Sixteen:

Number Three, Bagshot Row

            Rosie no longer wanted to think. Thinking had gotten her into this mess – allowing her mind to create reasons why she should betray such a wonderful man, allowing her mind to remember Nibs. And thinking only made what she had done more heartbreaking. She simply became numb to the world and allowed her feet to take her wherever they wanted: indeed, if they had chosen to make her walk into the sea and never return, she wouldn't have objected. It was what she felt she deserved. But her feet merely led her home, down the hill towards Bagshot Row. As she was approaching the house, she saw a figure on ahead of her in the moonlight: Sam. 

            He didn't see her, and for a moment she simply watched him walk on ahead. From a distance in the moonlight, his eyes didn't look quite so silly, his walk more pronounced and purposeful. For a moment, her scorn and hatred left her, and she pitied him. Truly he was not to blame for being born so simple and plain. And, after all, didn't she deserve to be hated?

            A pain shot through her heart. Yes, she had not meant to tell Lotho of the hidden hobbits, and she certainly hadn't realized that such an offense would have them arrested. In that affair she had been innocent, and his scorn of her had not been deserved. Yet she had just committed cold-blooded murder by purposefully seeking out the identity of the Elanor and supplying that information to a man who wished only his destruction. Truly Sam's scorn and simple, unknowing hatred of her was now justified. 

            Suddenly filled with despair, she rushed forward into the night, reaching the garden in front of their house as he opened their door.

            "Sam," she called out, her voice causing a visible tremble to go through him. He turned back to her, his face sad and actually rather serious looking in the moonlight.

            "Rose?"

            She paused, unsure of how to continue, yet she knew she would not let this go by another minute.

            "Would you… would you walk with me for awhile? The garden looks so lovely in the moonlight."

            Sam paused as well, the silence filling the gulf between them with a heavy tension. 

            "Well… bless me, but I doubt you'd find me good company, if you take my meaning."

            "_Please_, Sam. Could we not walk together and perhaps remember the happy days?"

            "I'm afraid it might not be a good idea to go walking down into the past. Like the Gaffer always would say…"

            "Forget the Gaffer, Sam!" Rosie exclaimed, stepping forward to stand beside her husband on their doorstep, her red curls nearly aflame in the light of the moon. "Walk with me?"

            Taking a deep breath, Sam finally nodded and the two turned to walk down Bagshot Row, neither looking at the other, neither speaking.

            "Sam, is it possible for love to die?" Her frank question caused Sam to falter, and he slowed his steps. She turned back to look at him, and was quite surprised to see his brow furrowed in thought and his eyes avoiding hers. Realizing that she had, for the first time in years, struck him to the heart, she stepped in front of him and tried to meet his gaze. "You said once that your life was mine, that nothing could stop you from loving me. Yet here you are avoiding me, wearing a mask to hide your true feelings from me."

            "Why do you need my love?" he retorted back, his voice thin and quiet. "You spurned it once, after I had offered it so fully as you profess. You kicked me away, as I remember."

            "Sam…"

            He turned away and began walking quickly, as though to dispel the anger pent up inside of him. "Just hours after we were married, the entire Burrows family was taken away to some untimely end…"

            "I told you that I was responsible!" she interrupted, near tears. He turned to her with a murderous calm, his eyes intent and focused now.

            "Yes, _after_ I had heard the news from strangers. After I had watched my master hear the news that his cousins had been taken away. And after all this, had the strength to tell me without caring a word for what you were saying."

            "That's not true," she cried back, grabbing his arm and forcing him to face her. "I didn't tell you the whole story then because I knew you wouldn't listen. Sam, listen now. Years ago, Nibs, my dear sweet Nibs, fell in love with Myrtle Burrow. Her brothers, however, refused to allow him even to speak with her, being that he was merely a farmer's son. When he managed to send her a love note, they hunted him down and beat him." Her tears were flowing freely down her face now, and she made no attempt to hold them back. "They left him for dead in a ditch somewhere; I nearly lost him. Then, all those years later, I heard from a friend that the Burrows were hiding some hobbits condemned to be arrested in their home. I, stupidly, mentioned it to Lotho. I didn't know he was friends with the Uruks and I didn't know he would tell them. I didn't know until the deed had been done, no sooner than you. And then I realized what a fool I had been, and I needed you, Sam. I needed you."

            Sam's eyes now were brimming with tears, though he still tried to hold them back. He set his jaw firmly, however, and turned his eyes away. 

            "I'm sorry to hear that, Rose. I… I wish I had known…" He paused, trying to get a hold on his emotions once again. Unable to do so, he turned his eyes to the heavens and exclaimed to her, "But why didn't you tell me this before? I asked you for an explanation, and you refused. I wanted to believe you were innocent, that I knew you well enough to believe you had nothing to do with this, but all you told me was that if I loved you, I wouldn't need an explanation."

            Rosie turned away in frustration. "Oh Sam, don't you see? I was young, I was stupid, and I was scared. I needed someone who would support me and would help me through it. I was scared of losing you, and I wanted to believe that you would love me blindly through everything. But you didn't." Her voice lowered as she studied the face of the man she had loved. "You turned from me. You hid behind a… a mask of carelessness, and all your love died."

            They both fell silent, turned away from the other. It was at long last that Rosie spoke, her voice low and quiet with sadness. 

            "I came to you tonight, because I need your help."

            "I am yours to command."

            Rose turned away and placed her hands on the nearby fence for support. Taking a deep breath, she spoke. "It's Nibs, Sam. He was a part of the league of the Elanor, and he was stupid and foolish and got himself arrested by those creatures in Bywater. For all I know, he's being tortured right now." She burst into tears, her body shaking with the relentless sobs. If she had been able to watch the scene, she would've seen Sam race to her side, his arms outstretched, stopping a few paces away and forcibly willing himself not to take her in his arms. 

            "What would you have me do?" he asked, his voice cracking.

            "Could you not ask someone to help – Gandalf, Elrond, someone? You have so many powerful friends, I feel certain…"

            Sam's head bowed, and he slowly, and somewhat clumsily, took her hand in his.  

            "You have my word, Rose, no harm will come to your brother if I can in any way stop it."

            Although she otherwise would've laughed at this gesture – after all, what could he do to help? – Rosie felt strangely at peace and her tears lessened. She even managed a gentle smile as Sam carefully raised her hand to his lips, bestowing upon it a gentle kiss. 

            "Thank you," she whispered gently. He simply looked away as the light of the dawn began to creep over the hills.

            "No, don't thank me," he said, a gentle blush rising in his cheeks. "As the Gaffer would say, all's well as ends better, and nothing's ended yet." 

            Rosie's smile disappeared. With the light of day, the passion she thought she had seen in him, the rousing of his heart, she realized it had all been an illusion under the light of the moon. He was no more serious now than he ever was, and her confession to him made no more difference than if she had remained silent. Bitterly, she carefully walked by him back to the house. At the doorstep, she turned back to look, but saw only the foolish, childish boy wandering up among the flowers. She turned with a sigh and entered the house, closing the door behind her as she headed to bed. 

            Had she but looked out the window before retiring, however, she would've seen a sight that would've put her heartbreak and inner torment to shame. Outside the warm walls of Number Three, Samwise Gamgee collapsed to the ground, tears welling in his eyes, and gently kissed the steps where her feet had trodden. 

Chapter Seventeen:

Farewell

            As Rosie crawled beneath the quilts, her mind, strangely enough, abandoned all its prior concerns and heartbreaks; Nibs was far from her mind, as was the Elanor she had just condemned. Rather, her mind was only conscious of a dull and aching pain in her heart. Could she truly have fallen in love with a fool? Or, just as paradoxical as that thought, could she have fallen in love with him, just as his love was dying for her? In any case, she fell into a dreamless, restless sleep, where she was vaguely conscious of trying to find Sam, of trying to understand what was going on. 

            When she finally awoke, she noticed a faint light streaming through the window. Dawn had arrived, but only moments before, and it was still far too early for the world to arise. However, she felt something was wrong and, reaching her arms out, she realized that Sam was missing and a small piece of parchment was left on his pillow. She snatched it up violently and raced across the floor to the window, attempting to read the words by the faint light of the sky. 

            _"Rosie-lass ~ The Gaffer always would say it's the journey that's not started as what takes the longest to finish, so I've set out to have a talking to with Elrond and Gandalf and all them wiser folk to see what I can do. You've given me a job to do, so to speak, and I intend to see it through to the end. ~ Sam"_

While reading over the simple words, she became aware of a pony's whinny outside the window, and looked up to see Sam saddling Bill for the aforementioned journey. Forgetting that she was clad only in her nightgown, she raced outside in the hopes of seeing him before he departed, if only to bid him farewell.

            "Sam!" she called at the door, forcing him to rein Bill to a halt that she could reach his side. 

            "Rosie?"

            Upon reaching his side, however, she found she had no words. The morning sun was creeping over the hill and Sam seemed eager to be away. Pausing a moment, she finally contented herself to say, "You are leaving?"

            "Yes."

            "For how long?"

            "I don't know."

            "You will not be in any danger?"

            He smiled softly. "Am I ever in any danger?"

            She smiled back; surely if anyone was likely to get into peril, Sam was the least. Both fell silent once again, as she tried desperately to divine his thoughts and tried vainly to put her own into words. Finally, she simply took his hand in her own.

            "Will you accept my thanks for doing this?"

            Sam gave her a sweet, lopsided grin. "I haven't done anything yet! And it's not like I'm off to do some heroic stuff. Don't worry your little head about thanking me."

            "Very well," she said, running his hand along her face. He turned away, closing his eyes to hide the emotion behind them. "I… guess I should let you go then."

            Sam nodded, and gave Bill a giddy-up. As he galloped down the road, she frantically called after him, "Sam!" He turned at the end of the row, looking back in alarm. "Come home soon," she called after him. Smiling, he bowed his head and wheeled away to the east.

Chapter Eighteen:

The Mysterious Flower

            Tired, yet strangely content, Rosie returned to bed and sleep peacefully for several hours more. Although her mind had much to brood over, and her mind put little hope in Sam's simple offer of help, she felt serene and calm, as though it would all work out in the end. 

            With the sun now shining her warm face at the world, Rosie awoke and began to go about the business of keeping house. In times of worry and doubt, sometimes the greatest balm to the soul is the familiar, even if it be as trivial as housework. After fixing herself a cup of tea, she took some water to the garden, carefully watering the plants that Sam usually tended with such love and care. After that, she took the broom from the wall and began her tour of the house. 

After sweeping through the kitchen and the bedrooms, she paused and realized that she had unconsciously passed by Sam's study. This perhaps was not so odd, as she always did so. In the previous days, the contradiction of terms in the title "Sam's study" earned her scorn, and she resolved never to set foot within the room, for fear of growing more aggravated with Sam's foolishness and, most likely, messiness. Yet now her curiosity was peaked: if anything would give her an insight into her husband's mind, would not it come from the place where he studied?

She backtracked her steps, leaving the broom against the wall, and stood before the door to this unseen room. A strange feeling of foreboding flooded through her as she reached for the doorknob and slowly began to turn it. She must have suddenly suffered from her husband's dull wits, for it took her several minutes to understand why the door wasn't opening.

Locked! She stared at the door in utter amazement. Sam – the one far too simple to even keep a secret – had a locked room in their very house? Frustrated, but now more curious than ever, she raced for the ring of keys he kept by the front door and raced back, spending countless minutes trying to unlock the door with shaking hands. Finally, one went into the hole and turned correctly, opening the door with a violent creak that made her jump. 

Eru only knows what she expected to find in the room. Her expectations of Sam called for mess and disorder; her foreboding spirit called for dead bodies or treasure troves. But neither was fulfilled. The room sat in an orderly fashion, a few general notes on gardening sitting on his desk, a few books carefully stacked on the shelves, and a few maps rolled and placed around the room. (She found this somewhat confusing at first, but explained away their presence easily; after all, Mr. Bilbo had been an avid fan of maps, and since he had passed onto Sam his love of poems, why should he not also pass on his love of maps?) 

Somewhat disheartened by this lack of discovery, she turned to leave the room. It was only when she was placing the key in the door to lock it again that the curious item sitting upon the desk caught her mind. She threw the door back open and raced to the desk to make certain that she had not imagined it. But no, it was there. Sitting upon his desk, potted gently and obviously well cared for, was a golden elanor.

Chapter Nineteen:

The Golden Elanor

            At what moment the insane thought first struck her mind, it was hard to say. Suffice to say that, having ascertained the existence of the flower and its rightful identity, she walked from the room in a daze, locking the door behind her and turning her steps to the kitchen to make herself another cup of tea.

            But, bah! What a thought! Why shouldn't a gardener keep a flower in his study? And, moreover, why shouldn't a man so enraptured with the Elves keep an elvish flower? It was utter lunacy, and she had convinced herself of such by her second cup of tea, at which time she heard a rap at the door and a gentle, "Hullo!" as it opened. 

            She stood to her feet and smiled as she greeted her older, but dear friend Eglantine Took and bid her come in for a cup of tea.

            "My dear child, I don't mean to take your from your chores, but today is my day for calling on people, and I thought to myself: I haven't seen that dear Rosie lass for so long!"

            Rosie smiled. "And I'm glad you've come. Sam left this morning, so I was afraid I'd be lonely all day."

            Eglantine simply stared in amazement. "Sam's gone, too? Well, he must be part of their 'great plan'," she said with a chuckle as she blew on her tea. Rosie turned sharply.

            "Plan? What plan?"

            Eglantine smiled. "Oh, my dear Pippin's up to something. Mr. Merry came over bright and early this morning; said something about how their boss had shown up and said he was leaving this very morning and they had to start the plan early." Eglantine squinted her eyes, trying to remember all that she had overheard. "Oh," she started, "Fancy my remembering and telling it to you!" she laughed. "The last thing they said was something about how the boss was worried about your brother, and had some job he had to do." 

            The blow had fallen. She had managed to delude herself most of the morning, but now she knew. Poor Eglantine continued to prattle on for some time about her son running off and leaving her, 'all in a fuss and a bluster as though it was the end of the world, or some such thing', but Rosie was not listening. Rather her thoughts turned to her husband's hidden emotions, the "job" he had to do, and the small golden flower sitting in his study. 

            "My dear, are you alright?" Eglantine's shrill voice asked, catching Rosie and bringing her back to the realization that she had dropped her teacup right onto her feet. 

            "I'm sorry, Eglantine," she said, rising to her feet and racing to the door. "I'm afraid I have forgotten something quite important I was to do today. You will excuse me, I hope?"

            Eglantine, seeing the worry in her young friend's eyes, quickly stood to her feet and walked Rosie to the door, helping the young lass into her cloak. 

            "Of course, my dear. I only hope it's nothing too urgent?"

            "Unfortunately it is. I must be off."

            "Very well," she said, taking her own cloak and heading out the door with Rosie. She kissed her friend goodbye, and watched as Rosie raced off down Bagshot Row, headed in quite a hurry for Hill Lane.

            Her thoughts were frantic and scattered – was her husband truly the Elanor? Had he been hiding his feelings all along behind the same mask with which he hid his cunning and strength? And – good Eru – she stopped in her tracks. Lotho. He told her the Elanor had shown up, but the only person the Gaffer had seen in the library was Sam and that pimply-creature. Did Lotho know, then? Had she condemned her very husband to death? 

            At this very moment, he was headed out to save her brother. Obviously, they had concocted some scheme which was now being put into early works, perhaps before they were ready. And all the while Lotho followed close behind, armed with the knowledge of where he would go. Both follies were committed by her own hands, so she steeled herself against the knowledge of them. What had been done was done, and now she must right her wrongs. She would follow her husband wherever his path took him and try to warn him; she didn't know what good she could prove, but she would die before she allowed any further hurt to come to this brave man whom she now fully understood her love for.

            But she could not go alone: Lotho knew where Sam was going, but she did not. And, for this very purpose, she raced up Hill Lane, bound for Bag End and some explanations.

Chapter Twenty:

The Friend

            Moments later, she burst through the door, and hurried inside to find Frodo Baggins settled in front of the fire, perusing documents in a rather frantic and worried fashion. He looked up, startled to see her standing before him and began to set the papers aside.

            "Rosie! Are you ill?"

            "No, Frodo, but I beg you: we have little time to talk, so I will be brief. Your leader and comrade, the Golden Elanor – my husband Sam Gamgee – is at this moment in deadly peril."

            Had she retained any last doubts about her suspicions, they would have been destroyed upon seeing the frightened look on Frodo's face. He shoved the papers into a drawer, as though they had somehow confessed this fact to her, and he stood to his feet.

            "I don't know what you're talking about. Sam - the Elanor? Rosie, dear, sit down – you're obviously ill…"

            "No, Frodo. I know as well as you do that it's true and thank the heavens that I have found out, though I pray I have not stumbled upon this fact too late. Please, sit and listen to what I have to say. When Merry and Pippin were waylaid at Bree, papers were found on them that spoke of a plan – to do what, I don't know – but a plan nonetheless. It also gave information on hiding places crucial to the plan. Lotho found these, and last night discovered that Samwise and the Elanor are one and the same, and is now following Sam. If he finds him and captures him…" she trailed off, unable to finish her own terrible thoughts.

            Frodo collapsed into a chair, burying his head in his hands. She knelt beside him, worried.

            "Do you believe me, Frodo?"

            He looked up slowly, and met her eyes. "Just tell me one thing, Rosie. How did Lotho find out that Sam is the Elanor?"

            Rosie bit her lip. "I told him. He holds my brother captured… he promised me that if I could find the Elanor for him, he would have Nibs set free – and how could I know that I would be condemning Sam?"

            Frodo stood and paced around the room. 

            "Please, Frodo, tell me it is not too late. We must help him, warn him somehow! If he is caught, Lotho will arrest him, take him away from me, perhaps kill him."

            Frodo laughed bitterly, and turned back to her with haunted eyes. "Sit down, Rosie. You don't know the half of it." Rosie did as she was told, but a terrible fear crept into her heart as Frodo sat beside her, his eyes wild with fear. 

"Have you ever heard Gandalf tell the stories of the olden days? Of Sauron and the Rings of Power?" Rosie nodded hesitantly, wondering how this related. Frodo continued. "After Bilbo left, he gave me his Ring. Gandalf discovered it was, in fact, Sauron's Ring. We none of us had any idea what to do with it, but decided it was best to keep it hidden in the Shire while we devised a plan. I was gone too much, visiting Bilbo, so I left it in Sam's keeping, knowing him to be a wise and cautious man." He paused, looking over Rosie's frightened face. "You married no fool, Rosie, know that now and always believe it.

"A while later, we heard from Gandalf that the head of his order had betrayed them, and now had his eyes fixed on the Shire. Sam kept the Ring hidden, disguising his intelligence behind the simplicity and foolishness that most everyone associates him with. But all the while we have been plotting how to destroy this Ring; how to get it into Mordor, the one place it can be destroyed. Meanwhile, Sam has been smuggling people out of Bywater, and we have been devoted to him and his noble quest. Unfortunately, we heard word from Gandalf last night that your brother is no longer in the keeping of Saruman. He has been moved to the tower of Cirith Ungol, on the very edge of Mordor, awaiting torture by the Dark Lord. Sam was quite worried about him, and this morning left without a word, saying he had to devise a new plan, as our old one would take months before it would be ready. Aragorn and Gandalf need more time to assemble the armies that would challenge Sauron at the Black Gate as a diversionary tactic, and it depended on discovering the dates when the Orcs would leave Mordor. But he apparently felt he could not wait any longer to rescue your brother, nor to keep the Ring hidden, and has fled this very morning for Mordor."

Rosie's heart fell. "You mean to tell me then that my husband is heading into Mordor, carrying the Ring of Power, with nothing to divert the attention of Sauron and with the power of Isengard following him close behind, knowing who he is and where he will attempt to hide?"

Frodo dropped his head into his hands again, and Rosie's heart rose into her throat. For a moment, her head swam and she felt she would faint; but only for a moment. In the next, she rose to her feet and stood before Frodo.

"Then my road is decided. I will follow him into Mordor, into death itself, in the tiniest of hopes that I may be able to warn him, or at least to give my life for him."

"Rosie, no!" Frodo exclaimed. "Truly yes, I must go to try to warn him, but the road will be too dangerous. I cannot let you go."

"Frodo," she replied through gritted teeth. "I will go whether you lead me there or not. I have betrayed the man I love to his death, and I will not sit at home idly, hoping it will all turn out for good."

"Very well. Go home, pack warm clothes and some food. We will start immediately."


	3. Chapters 21 through The End

Chapter Twenty-One:

Suspense

            Although Frodo saw to it that their journey was made in excellent haste – the fastest of horses bought at every outposting from Hobbiton to Rivendell, over the High Pass, fast ships procured to guide them down the Anduin, safely past Rauros, and safely down the remainder of the Anduin towards the ruins of an old tower, Frodo told her – Rosie could not help feeling heartsick at their slow pace. With every moment passed, she could feel Sam slipping further and further from her grasp, and Lotho getting closer and closer. 

            Frodo remained silent as well, obviously just as worried and disheartened as she, though he attempted to hide it. For him, the peril all of Middle-Earth stood in was weighed more heavily in his mind – if Sam was found, the Ring would be found as well and all would be lost. For Rosie, the threat of the Ring was never considered – all she knew was that if Sam were found, _she_ would be lost. And such threw both of them into a deep state of despair, which made the miles seem too long and the hours too short.

Chapter Twenty-Two:

Osgiliath

            Days, weeks, months: Rosie had not the slightest of ideas how long they traveled. No matter the speed of their travel, they had quite a distance to cover and the greatest of importance rested upon their heads, which will make any journey seem overly long. How Frodo and Rosie managed to remain calm and keep from going mad is anyone's conjecture – all that can be said is that they did and eventually their path led them to the ruins of the Citadel of the Stars, the great watchtower set up directly upon the Anduin, fallen all those years before.

            As Frodo moored the boat, Rosie wandered about the fallen ruins, walking along the great bridge and peering down into the inky waters beneath her. The great stone fortress, once so strong and mighty, was now nothing more than fallen rock and crumbling power. Spirits wandered the walkways, she felt, whispering to her of the horrific battles and the Great Plague. She shivered and drew her cloak close around her. 

            "This is one of our meeting places," Frodo said, coming up alongside her, "and I cannot recall that it was ever mentioned by name in any letter. We should be safe here, and will hopefully meet up with Sam."

            Rosie jumped in fear as a chilled wind raced around the great stone archway, shrieking aloud as though crying in pain. She bit back the fear within her.

            "Are you alright, Rosie?"

            It was then that her eyes alighted upon them, and she nearly cried with joy. There, in the corner of the ruins and the broken strength, someone had planted a small patch of golden elanor. 

Chapter Twenty-Three:

Hope

            She knelt beside the flowers, watering them with her tears of joy as she smiled up at Frodo. 

            "He has been here, Frodo," she wept. "There is hope yet."

            "Yes, milady," Frodo said gently, "but only a small thread. While I hate to abandon a place I know he will come to, I also feel we cannot just wait for him, if Lotho is out there as well."

            Rosie smiled. "Then the answer to your puzzle is simple, Frodo. You must leave and go seek him out, while I remain here and wait. It is the most logical answer to the puzzle, and will ensure a better chance of finding him."

            "But to leave you here! Amid the rubble and stones…"

            "I will be fine. I'll hide myself over here," she said, gesturing to a small alcove of rocks, wherein one could see but not be seen, "out of the wind and keep an eye out for my dearest and for you. Now, go! We will get nothing done if we stand around arguing about it."

            Frodo took a moment, deliberating over Rosie's plan. Finally, he agreed with her, saw her safely into the alcove, and headed back down to the quays to go searching for his leader. 

Chapter Twenty-Four:

The Death-Trap

            The wind was sharp, but within the small rocky alcove it did not blow quite as hard, and Rosie wrapped in her cloak enjoyed a semblance of warmth. Certainly the silence and solitude provided her with a moment to think, and the hope of being so close to her beloved made her spirits rise. She imagined it out: hearing his step upon the rock, racing out to meet him, throwing herself into his arms… well, not at first. Her fantasies had to include a measure of truth, so she would not allow herself to imagine that he would accept her at first, but she would explain it all. She would win him back, and no matter what the future held in store would not be near as black, knowing he knew that she loved him. That was all that mattered now.

             A half-hour passed thus, to the end that Rosie was near asleep when she heard footfall – real footfall, not the merely imagined kind – upon the rock. She drew herself up in joy, awaiting the moment when her dreams would at last come true, until she listened more closely and discovered that it was not Sam's. Nor was it Frodo's. In surprise, she watched and listened, only to draw back in fear at the creatures whose steps echoed upon the stony ground. 

            For across the bridge stood Lotho Sackville-Baggins, followed by a contingency of large, grimy Uruks, their cruel faces set. 

            "Lugdush!" Lotho called, one of the Uruks stepping forward to meet his leader. "Have your men scour the area. I know he will be somewhere around here soon, and I want him alive and unspoiled. Do you understand me?"

            "Yes, milord," the Uruk replied, bowing slightly in deference. He relayed the orders to the creatures, who turned and headed deep into the surrounding woods. Rosie felt her heart rise into her throat. There were enough of the creatures, he could not possibly avoid detection if he came anywhere near the ruins. Lotho, too, watched the creatures leave. Just as they neared the edge of the woods, he called their attention back once more. 

            "Remember: I am the voice of the White Hand! Any Uruk who spots this man, but allows him to go free, will have his head removed from his shoulders - if he is lucky." There is nothing Uruks understand better than threats of torture and death, and so they turned back to their tasks with a renewed sense of vigilance and terror. 

            As they disappeared into the woods, he called out one final command: "Lugdush! Report back here with a small contingency in twenty minutes if you have found nothing."

            Lotho, meanwhile, turned his back on his army and looked about the great stone ruins. He too, perhaps, felt the presence of the spirits of the past, for he drew his cloak tightly around him and nervously paced around the settlement. Nonetheless, a sadistic glee was as much in his mind as despair was in Rosie's – the Elanor and the Ring were well within his grasp and the hour of victory for the White Hand, as well as for himself, was near.   

            As he looked over the settlement, his eyes alighted upon a small pile of kindling. Apparently deciding that a fire would drive away the restless spirits, he began to pile the wood up and search the small area for a tinderbox. It was then that Rosie heard the sound that froze her heart with terror, though the noise was not intended to do any such thing. It was simply the sound of a sweet, young voice singing, "The road goes ever on and on…"

Chapter Twenty-Five:

The Flower and the Pimple

            Rosie nearly jumped to her feet, determined to race to him and shout to him to flee, but managed to check her emotions in time. Lotho would be sure to catch her before she could do so, and Uruks might be close to the area. In any case, there was nothing she could do but wait and watch, hoping that he would leave before caught.

            Lotho, too, seemed to hear this mysterious singer and sat down upon the stone floor, determined to hide in the shadows until he could pounce upon his target. He bared his teeth as he awaited his prey, only to jump nearly a league straight up when a hand slapped his shoulder. 

            "Lotho, dear boy! Bless me, but I never thought in a million years I'd find you here!" 

            Lotho stared in disbelief as his mortal enemy came out from the very shadows he had been hiding in and gave him a large hug. "'Course, it's the friend that shows up unlooked for as is the greatest surprise, as the Gaffer always used to say. Oh, I see you were looking to start a fire! Not a bad idea when the weather turns cold like this. A better night for sitting inside with a pint, if you catch my meaning."

            Lotho could do nothing but stare, his mouth agape, as Sam lit a fire and settled down with a plop next to him. Certainly, he hadn't expected Sam to make it to the ruins: there were Uruks scouring the forest at that very moment. But, even if he had an inkling that the hobbit would show up, he could hardly have suspected that the boy would act as though they had met in an inn or at a party. Rosie, for her part, sat in quiet amusement, idolizing him even more. Yes, this was the Elanor she had devotedly heard of. And, at the same time, this was the Sam she had fallen in love with.

            "Would you care for a cup of soup, Lotho? This cold weather bites right to the bone and the Gaffer always used to tell me that I may not be brave enough to say 'Boo' to a goose, but I could certainly make a tasty bowl of soup."

            Perhaps fearing a trick, Lotho refused. Sam, shrugging his shoulders, simply put on the kettle and pulled some supplies from his bag. "Suit yourself then."

            Rosie began to feel the strain of the silence she was under. Sam certainly was stronger than that weakling Lotho, but if Sam were to run now, he was under a terrible risk of being caught by the Uruks in the woods. However, if he waited too long, Lugdush would return and Sam would be outnumbered. The situation was quite dire, and seemed (to Rosie at least) that Sam should worry more about escaping than snooping about the campsite for herbs to use in his soup. 

            "I don't suppose you've seen any kingsfoil 'bout here, Lotho?"

            "What?" he asked, not having been listening to Sam, but rather to the woods in hopes of hearing the returning parties.

            "Kingsfoil. Er, it's a weed. Makes a rather tasty soup, though. Ah!" he exclaimed, evidently finding some in the corner. "Ever smelled it, Lotho?"

            "What? Smelled what?"

            "Kingsfoil! Always reminds me of the Brandwine in spring," Sam sighed melodramatically with a strong sense of nostalgia in his voice.

            Both Rosie and Lotho were nearly driven mad. Where were those confounded Uruks? Had it been twenty minutes yet? Where were they when the Elanor himself was sitting there, tossing flowers into his soup pot?! 

            "'Course, Daisy would always tell me that they smelled nothing LIKE the Brandywine in spring. She'd always tell me they smelled like the summer wind if you stood at the mill and looked down into the river. But what do sisters know, right?"

            Lotho, unable to stand the suspense, stood to his feet and began pacing around the ruins. Sam smiled lopsidedly up at him.

            "Here, what do _you _think they smell like?"

            Lotho, in his days of youthful folly, once claimed that he had never been tricked at any point of his life (though Saruman might perhaps have another opinion of the matter), but he never even saw it coming. With his ears only open for the approaching Uruks, he carelessly grabbed the flower from Sam's hands, thinking it might shut the foolish creature up, held it to his nose, and took a mighty sniff.

            Only someone who has accidentally had pepper up his or her nose could truly understand the agony that Lotho suddenly found himself privy to. He discovered, only too late, that Sam was quite adept with sleight-of-hand (especially when it involved any of his cooking utensils or supplies) and that, while the athelas plant is not _usually _sprinkled with a very heavy dose of pepper, it can prove a very effective weapon when it is.                     

            As Lotho rolled on the ground, his violent sneezing causing his head quite nearly to explode, Sam carefully stepped around him, put out the fire with his foot, gathered up his cooking supplies, and neatly (and quite quietly) slipped into the darkness of the night.

Chapter Twenty-Six:

Gollum

            It took Rosie a few minutes to understand what had happened, enough time to reveal once again in her husband's ingenuity and to hear the troops approaching. Lotho, meanwhile, had recovered enough to stop his sneezing, though he felt blind and deaf and quite unable to stand. 

            "Did you catch him? Did you get him?" Lotho screamed, seeing them approach. The Uruks, understandably, looked quite frightened.

            "No… we found no trace of him."

            "Maggots!" Lotho screeched, drawing his sword and racing across the width of the bridge. Picking the closest Uruk to himself, he racked his sword across the creature's throat and kicked him into the river below. Rosie drew back in terror, closing her eyes and willing herself not to scream. 

"There!" he exclaimed, pointing to the carcass now floating away. "That is the price of your stupidity and tardiness!" The Uruks cowered backwards; though they more than doubled the hobbit in size, he was quite a formidable enemy when roused, and the authority of the White Hand went with him. Lotho paused, breathing heavily and watching the body float away, staining the water a loathsome black. "You have come five minutes too late, you fools," he said, his voice now deathly calm. "He has come and gone."  
             Lugdush stepped forward. "He cannot get far, milord. We still have Uruks prowling about the countryside. They will find him soon."

Lotho drew back, slightly calmed and pacified for the moment. "Fetch me some water," he growled to a nearby Uruk. "Fresh!" he added, seeing the Uruk scamper down to the riverbanks. "I will drink no Uruks blood, though I will not hesitate to spill it if he gets away again."

As the slave returned with Lotho's water, three Uruks appeared from the shadows, one of them dragging something behind them. Although Rosie thought for a moment it might be some dead animal, she quickly saw the creature was moving, cowering away from the Uruk that held it. 

"Milord," one of the Uruks said, stepping forward. 

"Well?" Lotho asked, sneering down at the Uruks and their captive. 

"We found this miserable creature wandering through the woods." The Uruk motioned back towards the slimy, dark creature with the pale, sinister eyes while the one that held his bonds gave him a sharp kick. The creature responded with a sharp outcry of, "Precioussssss!"

Lotho stared at the creature with disgust and fingered his sword. "Why bring it here? Why not just kill it if it insists on snooping around?"

At the mention of killing, the creature screeched and tried to run, its long, bony fingers clawing at the ropes that held its limbs. The Uruk gave it another mighty kick, which settled it down somewhat.

"We would've, milord, but the creature said it knew what we were looking for and where we'd find him."

Lotho's eyes opened wide, and he told the Uruk to bring the creature forward. Crawling on all fours, the creature slowly lolled forward, cowering before Lotho and muttering a "_Gollum_" deep in his throat. 

"What are you called, creature? Where do you come from?"

"_Gollum. _Sméagol doesn't come from anywheres, good hobbit masster. Sméagol doesn't mean any harm. No, no. No harm. Nothing wrong. Sméagol only walks by night, the Bright Lights hurtssess our eyesss, yes preciousss, they doessessess…"

"Stop your blathering! My men say you know what we are looking for?"

Sméagol paused, looking from creature to creature, nervously fidgeting back and forth. Finally, his eyes alighted upon Lotho in a sinister light. "Yesss… you're on the trail of a hobbitsess. A hobbit master carrying… carrying the Preciousss."

Lotho's eyes lit up, and his licked his lips eagerly. "And you say you know where he's going?"

"Yes, yes, Sméagol knows! Sméagol knows; nobody notices when Sméagol listens. Hidesess in the treeses, Sméagol does. No one notices, no one cares. _Gollum._ But Sméagol hears. Sméagol knowses where he's going… and Sméagol could help. But not when nasty Orcssess kick Sméagol and hold knivesess to his throat. No, no. _Gollum._ Sméagol doesn't like that; no, no."

"Quiet, you! Now, what are his plans?"

Sméagol's eyes lit up once more, as he coyly smiled. "Why should Sméagol tell the hobbit master? Oh no, nasssty hobbitsess. Treat Sméagol meanly, oh no. _Gollum._ What would Sméagol get in return?"

Lotho had not seriously looked upon the creature before this moment; disgust of the sniveling, slimy creature kept him from even casting a glance at this pitiful being. But now, he stared the creature in the eye – and found an equal. Hobbit to Stoor; at the center of their existence, their heart beat for the same reason. One moment of equality with this being was quite enough. Turning away, his lips twisted as a cruel plan sprung to his mind. 

"Sméagol," he said, his voice low. "We wish only for the capture of this hobbit and to right the wrongs that he has done to everyone. And, of course, what better place to start than to give 'the Precious' back to its rightful owner?"

"To… Sméagol?"

"Will you help us?"

The creature jumped into the air with glee, screeching with joy. "Yes, oh yes. Sméagol will help the nice hobbitsess! Nice hobbit master, so kind to Sméagol! So kind, yes so kind! Giving us back the Preciouss! Sméagol will be good, Sméagol will help!"

"What then did you hear, Sméagol? What are his plans?"

"The hobbitssess with the Precious met with two other hobbitses. They didn't see old Sméagol, oh no. Sméagol's so quiet. Nobody sees Sméagol. All three were dressed up like nasty Orcsess – Sméagol wouldn't know they were hobbitsess if he didn't see them get disguised like that. The one with the Preciouss told the others: they would take the Morgul Road to The Tower – nasty Tower! nasty, nasty!" Sméagol began to holler about the Tower, and had to be violently kicked to stop. "Yes, yes, so polite Orcsess… So polite. Yess… well, hobbitsess would take Morgul-Road and get their friendses out of the Tower, saying _He_ wanted to see them. Then, they goeses into Mordor and hides with the other Orcsess, until He orders them all out. They leave easy enough, and the Preciouss leaves us all. Lost! Lost again!"

Lotho turned from the creature, pacing and devising his plan. "Such a straight-forward plot, and yet so easy. March into his land, demand his prisoners, and walk out alongside his men! Yes, it sounds like something that blasted maggot would attempt! Something he could laugh at me with, laugh at all of us! But tonight, they will not flee! They will perish instead!"

The Uruks cheered this on, but Lotho was not finished. 

"Did they say where they would hide once in Mordor, Sméagol?"

"Yes, yes. Sméagol was listening, and they never saw Sméagol, not even once. Stupid hobbitsess. Stupid. But Sméagol heard. And Sméagol knows. Sméagol was in dark land once. Wouldn't go back, but for the Preciousss… yess… we would go backsess for the Preciouss…"

"Can you lead us there? Would you be able to find them, disguised as Orcs, again?"

"Yes, oh yes. Sméagol knows. Sméagol watched… And when we catch them, Sméagol gets the Preciouss?"

Lotho's eyes turned cruelly upon the creature once again, who cowered to the ground.

"Listen well, Sméagol, for I will propose our bargain. You will lead us down this Morgul-Road they will follow. If they have already stolen the prisoners, you will take us to the Orc camps and find them for us. If you do, we will give you your Precious," Gollum danced in glee at this, but Lotho continued. "But, if they elude our capture and you do not find them, I will command these Uruks to give you such a sound thrashing, your breath will perhaps leave your body forever." Sméagol's delight fell short. "Do you accept?"

"_Gollum._"

Chapter Twenty-Seven:

On the Morgul-Road

            Rosie's plan was simple. Never once did she consider that she had any other choice. She watched and waited as the Uruks formed into protective ranks around Lotho. She watched as he ordered the creature Sméagol to kept heavily guarded, but out of his sight, and she watched as they finally marched out into the darkness. Wrapping her cloak tightly around her, she waded into the shadows after them. 

            They kept a steady pace and thus it was not long before they arrived at the Crossroads. Rosie watched as the Uruks casually threw rocks at the statue of the king, mocking the desecrated spot but carrying on under Lotho's harsh orders. From there they headed straight east. The path was patrolled by Orcs (though none would challenge the Uruks) and Rosie found it more difficult now to keep hidden. Whereas Ithilien had provided her with foliage on either side of the road, she now was forced to clamber into the banks of the river Morguiduin, crawling along the rocky terrain and ignoring as best she could the cold that was seeping into her bones from the icy water. 

            The pace was tiring and Rosie, exhausted from the emotional drain she had suffered, fought to keep up. Hours upon hours passed; her mind grew blurry as her hands and knees grew bloody. And yet on she wandered, keeping the noise of their march ever in front of her, willing Sam, wherever he was, to be careful.

            When she felt she could stumble on no further, she collapsed into the riverbed, allowing the water to seep into her clothes as she lay in a heap on the ground. However, her ears pricked up, for the sound of the march stopped. She peeped her head over the downtrodden earth, her energy renewed through her curiosity. 

            Before her stood the Tower of Cirith Ungol; it's three great tiers scraping the heights of the heavens and the malice emanating from the outer walls making Rosie cower in terror. She watched as the great host gathered on the narrow cleft before the walls, and Uruks entered the Tower. Moments later, they returned, shaking their head in anger. Lotho cursed aloud and shook his fist at the Tower. Obviously, they had arrived too late.

            "Very well," he muttered. "We must therefore depend on you, Sméagol, to find these cursed spies and set things to right."

            "Yes… Sméagol will help… Sméagol will find the Preciouss… Follow Sméagol!"

            And, like a shot, he was down the road once again, headed straight into the very heart of Mordor. Rosie, despite her fatigue and pain, followed after.

Chapter Twenty-Eight:

The Orc Huts

            Heading straight east, they didn't have far to go before they found what Sméagol had spoken of. Small towns of Orcs had sprouted up, some in tents and others in more clustered and organized groups. Having come in the dead of night, the company passed through easily; no Orc challenged their right to be there, for all seemed to be hidden within their tents, sleeping away the night. 

            Rosie shuddered as she crawled through the towns. Sméagol passed them all by, one by one, until he approached a smaller hut on the very edge of a large grouping. As soon as he had pointed it out, Lotho's lips twisted into a cruel smile. It was, after all, a perfect location for the Elanor: close enough to not be suspicious, but far enough that no one would pay much attention. And, the next morning, when the Orcs were called out of Mordor to wreak their destruction on Middle-Earth, he would leave the land as easy as you please. "Or so you think," he muttered under his breath.

            Rosie had, by this time, given up all hope of saving her husband. As she watched the Uruks surround the small hut, she knew her last hope existed only in dying beside him. In allowing him to know that she had repented, and that she did love him. It was all that drove her on now, the only thing that kept her going.

            Lotho ordered the hut surrounded – quietly, so as not to arouse alarm – but surrounded heavily and carefully, that none could escape. Watching the Uruks carry out this order, Rosie's arms gave way beneath her and she collapsed to the ground. As she lay, exhausted, thirsty, and bleeding, she heard heavy footsteps clamber up behind her. Too worn out to care, she allowed the Uruks to grab her up, carry her somewhere, and finally drop her onto the ground elsewhere. 

            "Well, well, well. Miss Cotton, I presume?"

Chapter Twenty-Nine:

Trapped

            A few moments of unconsciousness were mercifully granted her, as she dazedly lay in a heap at Lotho's feet. When she awoke again, she merely listened with closed eyes to his conversation with Lugdush. 

            "The Uruks?"

            "Set and ready, awaiting your command."

            "The creature?"

            "Bound and gagged, milord, as you requested."

            "And the lady?"

            "Unbound as you ordered, over by that rock."

            "Very good."

            She became faintly aware of footsteps, and opened her eyes to see Lotho standing over her, grinning evilly. 

            "My dear Rosie. I'm so sorry we could not better accommodate you, but I fear your present circumstances will have to hold. My men told me I should gag you, but I told them you would be silent, for me." Rosie attempted to spit on him, but found her mouth completely parched; besides, she did not even have the energy to raise her head. "You might wonder, why? Well, let me tell you. Your frustrating husband has eluded our capture several times, and from circumstances more dire than this. Surely, if you were to scream, he would somehow find a way to escape. However, I promise you that your brother would not be so quick.

            "Here, then, is my proposition. If you are a good little hobbit lass and hold your tongue, I will see to it that your brother walks out of this beastly hole – alive. However, if you make a noise to warn Sam, I will personally see to it that Nibs is run through with my own blade."

            Rosie dropped her head to the ground, tears springing to her eyes. Lotho simply laughed and patted her head before walking away. 

            "There, there. That's a good little Rose."

            But a noise then arose that neither one expected. A noise which stopped Lotho in his tracks, and made Rosie suffer herself to lift her head in wonderment. 

            From somewhere around them, Samwise was singing. 

Chapter Thirty:

The Mountain

            "Though here at journey's end I lie…"

            He may as well have been singing in Elvish for all the words meant to Rosie or for the dastardly company. Lotho drew his sword, the Uruks looked around them in wonderment, and Rosie finally drew a deep breath and closed her eyes. "Forgive me, Nibs," she thought, tears running down her face. Let her be her brother's murderer, she could not remain silent.

            "Sam!" she screamed, her voice hoarse and twisted. "Sam, run!" She was vaguely conscious that she was picked up and flung to the ground again roughly, but she would not stop. "Sam, my dearest husband, flee! You are betrayed and surrounded! Run now!"

            "Will someone shut that creature up!" Lotho screeched; an Uruk complied by giving her a swift kick that drew the very breath of life from her lips. Doubled over as the faint light of the evening faded and swam in her vision, she was only barely aware of Lotho's scream, "Charge!" and the vicious, horrific shout of the Uruks as they raced towards the hut.

            "Into it, my men! And let no one escape from that hut alive!"

            She pulled herself up, determined to watch the gory battle out to the end, but watched in amazement as the Uruks walked back out of the hut, their war cry over, just seconds after entering it. Lotho charged up, his rapier drawn, a diminutive figure with fire in his eyes. 

            "Why do you not attack?!" he screamed. The Uruks looked among themselves.

            "Milord, there is no one in the hut."

            "What? You let them escape?" He held his sword aloft, ready to spill more blood when another Uruk screeched from a nearby hut. 

            "They are all empty, milord! The Orcs have already left!"

            Lotho's eyes grew sickly pale as he looked around him. Indeed, the valley had been too dark and quiet for any place inhabited by Orcs – the Dark Lord had already called them out. Turning to the North, Lotho's eyes could vaguely perceive a dark form on the horizon: his enemy slipping from his fingers. 

            "Well, don't just stand there!" he screamed. "After them! Kill them all!"

            The Uruks, filled with vigor at the idea of killing Orcs and finding their foe among their numbers, let out another terrifying war cry and raced towards the Black Gates. Lotho, however, called Lugdush and Sharku back. His eyes were filled with white hatred, and he stepped towards the creature Sméagol, towering above him. Sméagol cowered as best he could beneath his bindings as Lotho removed his gag.

            "Tell me, Sméagol, do you recall the conditions of our bargain?"

            Sméagol hesitated, looking from creature to creature to creature, his eyes filled with terror.

            "But… but Sméagol helped! Sméagol brought you here, Sméagol brought you to where the hobbitsess were…"

            "But did we find them? Did we Sméagol?" The creature cried aloud, and Lotho stepped back in disgust. Turning to Lugdush and Sharku, he drew forth his sword. "Give the creature the thrashing of his life. Do not kill him; I will need him as proof to the White Hand of our activities here tonight, but make good my end of the bargain." His orders clear, he turned to follow his Uruks towards the Black Gates. 

            "But, what shall we do with him afterwards? And what of the hobbit wench?"

            Lotho turned momentarily, thinking it over. "Leave them here. They won't go anywhere, and we can return to fetch them in the morning. When you finish, go and guard the Morgul-Road. Make certain no one leaves by that pass, Orcs included. Kill them if you have to." His orders given, Lotho turned and fled towards the Black Gates.

            Rosie attempted to shut out the pitiful cries of the creature just feet away as the Uruks happily utilized their whips for the first time that evening. She attempted to drown out everything: there was still a chance that Sam and Nibs would elude Lotho. And she would have the small joy in knowing that she had died for him, warning him in the end of the eminent danger. She closed her eyes, and listened only slightly as the whipping ended and the soldiers ran off to guard the road miles away. She closed her eyes against the pain and the cold and the rock, and merely tried to forget.

Chapter Thirty-One:

The Escape

            With her head pressed against the ground, and fatigue threatening to overwhelm her, Rosie listened to the vibrations in the ground as the last two Uruks raced away from her, leaving her quite alone in this desolate land, leaving her to die. 

            But not all was silent. As she lay, hoping for her end to come soon and take away the pain, she heard a noise that made her feel quite certain that madness had finally gripped her. From somewhere in the confines of that horrific land, a noise echoed across the cliffs and gullies that made the very rocks wonder in amazement. 

            It was the sound of a good, solid, absolutely hobbit, "Ninnyhammers!"

            She pulled herself up by the elbows, straining her ears to try to determine whether her mind had abandoned her or she now was saved. All was still again for a moment, but only a moment.

            "Bless me if I ain't as tired as the water wheel of the mill." A tear sprang to her eyes as she looked around her. The voice was unmistakable, but where was it coming from?  

            "It's as the Gaffer always said, 'a hard day's work deserves a long night's sleep'; and I feel I could use one right now. Don't know rightly if he ever said nothing about getting beaten to a pulp, though."

            It was by sheer chance that her eyes managed to alight on him while he was speaking; otherwise she never would've believed it. From beneath the grime, the filth, and the false skin, Rosie watched as the creature Sméagol gave her an all-too-familiar lopsided grin.

            "Well, Rosie lass. We've had quite a day, haven't we?"

            "Sam!" she cried, racing to his side. "Are you hurt?"

            "Not terribly," he said, though the sharp intake of breath spoke otherwise. "However, I'd be greatly in your debt if you would untie me, m'dear."

            "Oh, of course!" She tore at the ropes as fast as her chapped fingers would allow, finally loosening the knots and allowing her husband to stretch out his limbs once again. He did so with a great sigh of relief, then began pulling at the false covering for his skull, revealing the uncontrollable mass of curls hidden underneath. He also attempted to wipe the layers of filth and grime from his face, but only managed to smear it around. Rosie simply watched it all in amazement. 

            "Sam, I… I don't understand!"

            "Bless me, I guess you do deserve something of an explanation. Though, I daresay, you've figured out quite a bit on your own. I guess I should've known my clever little wife would find me out someday," his smile beamed up at her, and he gently ran his fingers across her cheek. "Well, where shall I begin?"

            "Why are you dressed like this? What happened here? Where is Nibs?"

"Ah, very well. I shall start at the beginning. Your brother is quite safe, my sweet. You don't need to fear for him."

"But Lotho! The Uruks!"

"He's nowhere near 'em. Sméagol was telling the truth – but in a rather abridged form. Merry and Pippin were disguised as Orcs – perfect little Orcs, I might say, if we could've made them bow-legged – and walked into Mordor pert as you please, asking for Nibs and some of the other prisoners holed up in that nasty place. However, they walked back out by the same road and were well on their way to Minas Tirith when Lotho and I were enjoying a nice pot of soup together."

He chuckled at the memory, and Rosie smiled too, until her mind became confused again.

"But, if Nibs and the others were out of danger, why did you put yourself in such danger to come along with Lotho? What if he had seen through your disguise?"

"Then my game would quite certainly be up, little Rosie! But while I had completed the job you had given me, I had quite another one to accomplish. And, once that job got started, I found myself with another, infinitely more important. I had to get myself into Mordor and do so without bringing too much attention to myself – Rosie lass, my dear!" he exclaimed, noticing that she had burst into tears. With a great amount of pain, he struggled to sit up and took her face in his hands.

"What is it, my darling?"

"Oh Sam," she whispered between sobs. "This was all my fault. This whole mess. I'm so sorry, my love. I'm so sorry."

Sam smiled gently, then took her hands in his, kissing them gently. "My sweet Rosie lass, there's nothing you need to be sorry about. I'm the one who didn't listen, I'm the one who should've believed you, and I'm the one who doesn't deserve you. If I had bothered to realize what a noble heart was yours, I would've trusted you as you deserved to be trusted, rather than forcing you to this horrid place to chase after your silly husband."

They fell into each other's arms, holding the other close and refusing to let go. It was moments later, however, that Rosie and Sam both tensed, having heard the noise of footsteps coming closer. Rosie clung to Sam; was this to be the end after all? Nonetheless, as the inky figure drew closer, Sam merely laughed. 

"Sam?" she asked, her voice naught but a whisper. "What is it?"

Sam just laughed again, and kissed her cheek. "Just a mere trifle that you forgot, my dear."

"What?"

He leaned closer and whispered in her ear. "A trifle named Frodo Baggins."

"Hullo? Sam?" came the voice of their dear friend, as he wandered through the Orc huts. 

"Over here, Frodo!" Sam called out, drawing their friend closer. Frodo raced to their side, but stopped short a few steps from Sam, staring at his leader in amazement.

"Sam! You look… er…"

"Yes, I look – er, um – very good way of putting it," he laughed, climbing to his feet and clapping Frodo on the shoulder. "As usual, you are perfectly on time, my dear master. Though, I must say, I have quite a score to settle with you! May I ask what you are doing here in Mordor, when you were commanded to remain at Bag End? Insubordination? Just wait 'til we get back to the Shire; I'll call on Gandalf to turn _you_ into something unnatural!"

Frodo laughed. "I'll bear whatever he can dish out, so good it is to see you alive and well, my friend! Though I trust you will keep in mind that this quest is only being brought to an end by _my_ help!" Frodo placed his hand into his pocket and drew out something on a long chain, offering it to Sam. However, Sam put it back into Frodo's hands. "Hold onto it a little while longer; I have more… _precious_ cargo to carry."

With this, Sam turned back to Rosie. "You see, my dear, we also had need to get the Ring into Mordor so that we could destroy it. I had planned to dress like Sméagol, lead them to this hut, and then sneak off to the mountaintop myself with the Ring while they were busy capturing an empty hut. However, after I gave that Pimply-face creature a lesson on botany, I met up with my dear master Frodo, who informed me that you were here about somewhere. I couldn't take the chance that I would have to leave you alone with them – I wouldn't trust a single one of them as far as I could throw 'em – so we had to improvise. Frodo was therefore given command of the Ring and told to wait two hours, in which time he would head down the Morgul-Road and meet us here."

Sam turned back to Frodo. "You had no trouble passing through, I trust?"

"No. Not an Orc in sight thanks to the Uruks, and they were too busy watching for Orcs trying to get out, that they paid no attention to a small shadow trying to get in." 

"Excellent. So, my dear, you have heard my entire cunning plan. Will you pay us two rogues the great honor of your presence as we rid the world of a great evil?"

After shaking her head in amazement at the story, she turned her eyes at last to the mighty mountain they sat beside, already trembling and foaming. "Sam," she said slowly. "I'm not sure I can walk that far."

Sam smiled sweetly, and bent over her. "Of course not, my love. I intend to carry you."

The climb to the top of the mountain was long and harsh; although they found the path soon enough, the mountain was trembling at the nearness of its creation, and the long night's work took its toll on all three. Yet Rosie whispered sweet nothings into her husband's ears that made his burden light and his feet like wings, so long had he wished to hear them. 

When they finally reached Sammath Naur, the dawn had just begun to creep over the edge of the earth, hindered only by the dark clouds which had clouded the moon. Frodo once again offered the Ring to Sam, who insisted that Frodo be the one to destroy it, as it had been given to him after all. As the hobbit descended into the bowels of the mountain, Sam and Rosie looked out over the pillaged land. 

Away to the north, they saw the great battle that had eventually started as the army of Uruks had reached the footsore army of Orcs just within the Black Gates. A moment later, the earth shook beneath them and a great howl arose throughout the land. The Ring was destroyed. Sauron, the enemy of the Free Peoples of the Middle-Earth, was defeated. Rosie watched with amazement as the Tower of Barad-dûr crumbled to the ground, and the Wraiths fell from the sky. She watched as the creatures fighting to the north trembled in fear, and fled out the Gates. She watched then, as they poured from the land of Mordor, directly into the hands of the massive armies of Rohan and Gondor, at the command of Aragorn, son of Arathorn and Gandalf the White. But all this meant little to her, in comparison to the warmth of her beloved standing beside her in the cold morning air. 

As Gwaihir the Windlord and two of his brothers swooped to their rescue, Rosie was conscious only of one thing. The New Age of Middle-Earth that had begun that morning meant little to her; she smiled instead in anticipation of the new life that lay before her and her beloved.

Epilogue:

            Not more than two months later saw the glorious nuptials of Mr. Peregrin Took and Miss Diamond of Long Cleeve. Being as it was the first such celebration after the Uruks had fled Bywater, the event was doubly blessed and all who attended were glad of heart.

            No one knew entirely why the Uruks left. Some claimed their wizard leader had found what he was looking for and had no further need for the Shire. Others said the wizard had been deposed by the other wizards of his order, and his Uruks fled, leaderless. Still others maintained that he had been killed: pushed from his tower by a hate-filled lackey and skewered onto a spiked wheel. But, of course, all such stories were just hearsay.

            In any case, perhaps the greatest mystery surrounded the newly rejuvenated marriage of Sam and Rosie Gamgee. Rumors spread more abundantly than ever as to why they had both disappeared one morning hating each other, and returned a few months later, more in love than ever. The most popular tale was that Samwise had somehow grown up in his travels, for he had returned a more serious and intelligent hobbit, though he still would occasionally make reference to the wise words of his Gaffer. 

            But, whatever explanation was true, the people of the Shire enjoyed a more rich and abundant life, now fully reveling in their freedom and love. A new life had been given to them all, and they intended to live it. 

            Though, indeed, it must be mentioned that most of the Shire, to this day, wonders just who the Golden Elanor was. 

The End 


End file.
